


Waiting for Fate

by DeadShips



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Batfamily (DCU), Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Jason Todd Week2020, Jason never died, Jason-centric, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Pre-Slash, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Tim Drake was never Robin, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:08:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22800730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeadShips/pseuds/DeadShips
Summary: Bruce wasn’t always the best person to ask about things like this; having the emotional stability of a machine on a better day (Bruce still had his moments, he would give him that). He’d always start by saying the same thing.“Identifying marks are dangerous in our line of work, Jason.”Tell that to every human being that’s ever found their fated half.-Jason's always liked the idea of finding his soulmate. But first, he needs to find himself.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson/Wally West (mentioned), Duke Thomas & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Roy Harper/Jason Todd, Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne (mentioned), Tim Drake/Jason Todd
Comments: 35
Kudos: 366





	Waiting for Fate

**Author's Note:**

> Jason Todd Week Day 2/3
> 
> Soulmates Au|Friendship / Jason Never Died|Bloody
> 
> Combined into one dragging fic.

Growing up in the Bowery there wasn’t very many constant things in Jason’s life. Sure, there was things that would be there no matter what – like the crime rates that dipped and weaved through like the changing seasons, there was always going to be drugs, his father was always going to be a violent asshole, and his mother too far gone to ever get them to safety like she promised (I just need to get well first, just one last time and I promise we’ll leave baby). When his father died, it was someone else that was lying their hands on him. When he found his mother’s cold body, needle still tucked into her arm, he knew that would be replaced with a flurry of other drug addicts. These things, they didn’t change. Jason still woke up hungry most mornings, still wondered around knowing that staying in one spot was the real danger. But those were – those were different. Like asking for more than a day of sunshine in Gotham. These things didn’t make him happy. There was only one thing constant in his life that he would actually cherish close to his heart; knowing that somewhere out there, there was a person especially for him.

It was incredibly sappy, something that should stay between the pages of the books in Gotham library that he was constantly flipping through. Something that should stay on the billboards advertising an abundance of discounts and care packages, collections for fashion and jewelry, those over dramatic soaps that played on a loop in Ms. Bellvene’s apartment. Jason knew better. He’d seen just how ugly the human mind could become. He knew that there was true evil out there, true scum that wouldn’t so much as flinch in trading their fated person for a payday. Afterall, his parents weren’t a fated pair, but they’d found their halves. He couldn’t say where his father’s other half was, but if his jumbling ramblings and the treatment of his own mother was enough to go off of, they’d rejected him after seeing his true colors. Whatever evidence was left behind of the mark that he was bound with was burned away hatefully with a branding iron. Good, they were better off without him. Now his mom on the other hand, she spoke about her fated half like they were a movie star. Well educated, well spoken, sharply dressed and fabulously wealthy. She loved him, Jason wasn’t an idiot. He could see the glow in her eyes every time that she would wistfully recall their adventures, how he’d whisked her away to Paris and Rome, bought her princess cut diamond earrings, proposed. He saw it in the way that she traced along the outlines of gorgeous and dainty flower petals at her wirst.The makings of every gooey romance novel that he read.

“Nigel,” She’d say his name like an angel’s sigh. “Would never dream of treating me the way you do.”

And it was true. God almighty, Jason knew that it was true. Jason also knew that if it weren’t for him, she would very well be with Nigel now. The details were foggy, how she’d ended up with Willis Todd of all men instead of showing up on her wedding day. Either she was still scornful to admit her truth, or too strung out to remember. He’d like to think it was the first one even if he knew it was more closely following the second. Years later when Jason was already at the tender age of six, they’d found another again. Apparently, Nigel had hired the best PI that his money could buy. To say that he was horrified upon finding his fated half selling at the Cozy Inn at fifty bucks a pop plus room fees would be an understatement. Here too the details remained unclear, other than begging allowance to rescue her from her current life, even to offer sanctuary to Jason.

She loved the drugs more than she loved Nigel, and damn well more than she loved Jason.

Foolish as it was, Jason couldn’t wait for his own mark to bloom onto his skin. He’d never be so stupid to treat them with disrespect or raise his fist their way like his father. He’d never let them slip between his fingers like his mother. Jason was going to love this person, fully and without regret. He just needed to survive these streets long enough to see it through.

-

Bruce’s marks as expected, was complicated. The first time that Jason saw them, he had to do a double take to make sure that they weren’t an actual wound. It was almost baffling how he’d never noticed it before then, having worked under the Batman for six months now. Bruce wasn’t always the best person to ask about things like this; having the emotional stability of a machine on a better day (Bruce still had his moments, he would give him that). He’d always start by saying the same thing.

“Identifying marks are dangerous in our line of work, Jason.”

Tell that to every human being that’s ever found their fated half. Then he would continue by dancing around the actual story, finding a million and one ways to say “it’s complicated”. Damn right it was, with them looking like gnarly drags of razor sharp claws dragging along from his right pec down to his ribs and ending at the jut of his hip. If you weren’t paying attention to the monstrous thing, it was easy to conceive it a fresh gaping wound. Bruce would never outright say who this particular mark came from, but he had his suspicions. Namely a leather clad feline whom made it a habit to chase off Batman’s Robin before closing in on her prey. Jason got the message. She came around explicitly without a crime? He was already high tailing it out of there. He could attest to the sharpness of those claws and the burn that came with the crack of a whip. He’d like to avoid those, thank you. There was a man who needed it more than he did.

Dick’s was beautiful, plain and simple. As if the man needed to be anymore infuriatingly attractive, the golden feather adorning his collarbone kissing his bronze skin was nothing short of a masterpiece. Jason had been lucky enough to be allowed to trace the outline one night in the medical bay. He remembered the ugly envy clouding his sight as he cataloged every softly etched detail in the confines of his mind. Ever the performer, Dick loved to describe the day that he found his half (loved to describe the man too), talking about how only fate would truly bring them together. More like their respective JL member, but nobody could ever tell Dick that. Wally West was a lucky son of a bitch to have struck gold (quite literally) with Dick Grayson.

Jason watched one by one as his peers and fellow side-kicks’ skin came to life with their own dignified marks. Some breath takingly gorgeous, some plain as a silhouette, and some even blobs of color (the weirdest he’d ever seen a damn outline of a frog). Regardless of color and shape, each were loved equally. At the height of his Robin career at fifteen, and Jason’s pale skin remained clear. Alfred assured him that it wasn’t entirely unheard of, afterall Bruce hadn’t obtained his until his twenties. Jason just hadn’t done enough searching yet. “ _My dear boy, give it time.”_ He’d say. _“They’ll find you when you are in most susceptible to their love. “_ Jason would always play it off, scoff and let the hints of his lower Gotham accent take bay in satirical words. He wasn’t waiting for anyone, he would be happiest if he was never cursed with something like the crushing weight of belonging to someone else. The topic would be dropped, and soon enough they would stop bringing it back up all together. Jason could have quite the amount of venom in his words when he wanted, and he wouldn’t dare let them look at him with those pitying glances, not again. Not when he’d been working himself to the core to prove himself as the next Boy Wonder, as tall as the Wayne name rose. Jason would not allow it to define him less than. Jason may hit a little harder, may speak a little louder, but he was never going to be treated as less than. Never again.

A vicious sort of determination and bullheadedness that would have he and the Bat clashing on more occasion than one. He respected Bruce. He was grateful to Bruce; for opening his home up to an unruly child, mentoring him and giving him channels to effectively release the anger in his heart, bought every single book that he lingered on just a second longer (because of course Bruce would notice), for the countless hours of charity work and risking his life to keep another child from feeling the pain that was bestowed upon him. Bruce Wayne had given him a second chance when no one else bothered, given him a home and a family (even if that family was distant and cold at times). Bruce was admirable. Bruce was the kind of example of a man that he only hoped become even half of one day. Jason loved him without shadow of a doubt.

Which is why it pained him so horribly that his heart ached for more. He would allow for the guilt to eat away at him every day, letting it chip away at him for being so ungrateful. Bruce loved him, in his own eccentric and completely unconventional way, Jason could testify that without falter. So why did he feel so empty? A sort of hollowing that didn’t just stop at the ever growing pit in his belly, it consumed his very soul, clutching at it with it’s boney fingertips never to let go. Books, the high marks, a newly perfected move, new gear (thank god he wasn’t expected to wear scaly panties the rest of his career), missions with the JL and even being allowed a Titan did nothing to fill the gaping hole in his chest. By the time that he was finally gathered enough courage to express his suffering he was given an entirely new part of himself to explore; his birth mother. Rather, the opportunity to find his birth mother.

Oh! The questions that he had! Ricocheting off the confines of his mind and bouncing around to the point that he was dizzy. Nothing was too far fetched. Nothing presented itself as unimportant for him to discover. Jason was obsessed, writing lists that turned into countless letters upon letters of the details in his life that she missed. He scrounged for baby pictures. He begged Alfred for copies of every last photograph that he was in since his arrival at Wayne Manor. The envelope that he’d initially begun to fill in secret doubled tenfold, to the point that it was spilling over and Jason had to sheepishly request something more suitable. For what he would never tell. He’d continue to slip papers into the folder, proudly adding in his latest report card with A’s across the board. Jason wanted to be prepared for the moment that he finally met his mother. He day-dreamed about it at any chance he would get, no longer standing before the mirror and imagining what features he could pretend to attribute to Bruce, but to pick out ones that he could pin to her instead. The teal of his eyes never quite matched his father’s and now it made sense when it didn’t hold to his mother’s – Catherine’s either. His father’s skin was rough, dry and pale, but had a tendency to redden at the slightest hint of exertion. Jason’s own skin could color to the softest caramel, long hours in the sun making the nearly invisible freckles dancing across his nose more prominent. It was like seeing an entirely different person. Each trait that he stumbled upon brought new excitement (what if the stubborn curl of his hair was a family trait, going back generations upon generations?).

For the first time since, God, Jason didn’t even know when, he excited for life. His fated half could wait. They may as well not exist when the search for his mother, his actual birth mother was the only thing on his mind.

-

Being trained by the World’s Greatest Detective had it’s advantages. Jason knew where to start his search, knew how to weed out the unlikely, and his tools all provided for. There was not one document too small for him to skim, filling notebooks with various notes on appearance, occupation, recent sightings, anything he could get his hands on. It wasn’t until he narrowed those results down to three consistent applicants that he decided to stop sneaking around the manor. Bruce had inquired several times over the past few weeks what he was working on, each time waving it off as a research project of sorts. Dick non-so-slyly dropped his own interest in what Jason was researching one night he borrowed the batcomputer for his own case (he suspected that he’d been set up by Bruce), Jason ignored him. Dick was.. kinder now that he wasn’t wearing the Golden Boy’s colors. That didn’t make them close. No matter how much the little boy inside still swooned at his first idol. Alfred had been the only one to get a hint when Jason asked him to bring him to the courthouse to search through local files. As long as his secret lasted was frankly astonishing. He figured Bruce too nosy to keep out of his business. In the very least to threaten being compelled by Diana’s lasso. Bruce could surprise him, which is why he gathered his adoptive father and grandfather (you couldn’t pay him to say Alfred was anything less than family) into the library one night before patrol.

The library had always been a place he sought refuge from the outside world, the smell of paper soothing him in ways that he couldn’t explain. The room would serve as the guiding push he needed to present his findings. The room was quiet at first, to the point that you could hear the grandfather clock’s ticking from down the hallway. Jason’s palms grew clammy as he wait for a reaction; a shift in posture, expressive brows, a deepening of eyes. He made it very clear, he was going to search for these three women with or without Bruce’s help. By gathering his case carefully instead of acting on impulse as he was often scolded for he hoped it to show far to heart he bringing it. Jason would admit that he was scared. Spending months now dreaming up a woman that he’s never met, expectations to the roof. He wanted Bruce to be there for it. Not just as his partner and mentor, but as his family. His blessing.

Bruce was cautious. He answered in almost a political manner, being vague and yet somehow to the point. The results may be flawed. They may not be able to find her. She may not respond well. She may not even want anything to do with Jason. It stung, but he knew what he was saying. Protect yourself. His conclusion couldn’t be anymore Bat. A heavy hand clasping his shoulder and a promise to triple check his research before they planned anything at all. It wasn’t rejection, it wasn’t the blind affirmation he hoped for, but he could live with it. Knowing the way that Bruce worked he would only be waiting a few days tops. What was a couple more days when he’d been waiting months?

Jason never got to wait those few days.

They fought, as Batman and Robin that’s just what they did. Jason’s ideologies weren’t Bruce’s and vice versa. Bruce believed that he was throwing more strength into his punches, allowing himself to be distracted with everything that was already on his mind. Then there was the incident. Jason may not see eye to eye with Bruce, might think that he was a little too soft at times – but Jason wouldn’t – _he would never_ – for Bruce to even think that he was capable of what he was accused of.. Robin respected Batman. Robin would never betray him. It didn’t matter how much he begged and plead, how much snot ran down his face as he repeated time and time again that he was innocent. Bruce had to believe that he was innocent. Bruce has been angry with him before, raised his voice to the point it felt like it shook the floor beneath his boots. Bruce has never looked at him like _that_.

He wasn’t yelled at. He wasn’t lectured or told to hit a cold shower. Jason was benched indefinitely. The only thing that he’d said in between Jason’s sobs?

“ _I just can’t trust you anymore.”_

Jason wished that Bruce would have just hit him instead. That would have felt less like his heart was being ripped from his chest.

If Jason didn’t have Robin, no fuck that, if Jason didn’t have Bruce, than he had nothing.

He didn’t think twice when he’d shoved any bit of clothing in reach into a bag. He could mostly be grabbing shirts and no pants or socks for all he knew. Jason just needed to get out of there as soon as possible. With Bruce still in the cave with Alfred, he barely needed to sneak down the halls to retrieve the file he’d given him from the study. Placing it neatly alongside the lonely folder. Jason didn’t bother leaving from which he came, hiking up the window nearest the desk and descending down the roof to the manor grounds. Jason ran as fast and as far as his legs would take him. He didn’t look back.

-

The smell of blood was far too pungent to sweep under the rug. The way that his ears kept ringing, how even with his eyes closed he felt nauseous and swaying. That couldn’t be right. Jason was laying on his side. Laying in something cold and wet. No matter how many times that he tried to blink away the cloudiness from his mind he couldn’t make out what was two inches in front of him. Everything was so blurry, filled with blotches of blues and purples. He thought to call out when sight failed him. His lungs heaved and gasped, filling with something entirely wrong and not nearly enough air. If he was wearing his belt, he would press the button for his distress signal. If he was still Robin.

Jason didn’t know a lot of things in that moment, only that he didn’t want to die alone. He didn’t deserve to die alone. When had he ever been so lucky? He’s had exactly one mercy granted in his life and he managed to fuck that up so royally.

Bitterly he thought that Willis was right.

Jason Peter Todd was a soul sucking burden to every one that he knew. Nobody would ever want something as pathetic as him.

Not his mother whom raised him with a needle in her arm, not his birth mother that was responsible for his current predicament. Not his fated half that he’d never have the chance of meeting.

Not even Bruce.

Wasn’t that ironic? He spent the better half of his search building up so much resentment for the Bat, and now here he was laying in a pool of his congealing blood with a silent plea of the man’s name on his lips. Jason Todd was so fucking stupid. Hoping for the familiar _swish_ of a cape was a closer pipe dream than reality. Yet for whatever reason, he kept fighting with consciousness, counting and stumbling over numbers in as many languages as he knew even when he felt so deathly cold. Anything that would keep him awake just long enough for Bruce to come and rescue him. Because even bleeding out onto the concrete of a godforsaken warehouse floor, his mind refused to believe that he was left behind. His mind continued it’s mantra of ‘Wait for Bruce’, ‘Bruce will be here any second’, ‘You will not be abandoned’, ‘Bruce loves you’.

Choking on a sob was quickly turning into full body spasms, tears that he wasn’t even sure why he even had any left with the way he’d been crying for hours kept running down his face in big hot drops. One more deep inhale and he was choking on the air itself. In those precious seconds of his last breath, the ringing in his ears cleared to a steady beeping. Jason was just so tired, so tired. He was just going to shut his eyes and let the will God take path.

He was going to die knowing that he wasn’t worth saving.

-

The beeping never stopped. Actually, it had gone higher in pitch than what he remembered. He couldn’t move, not that he could the last time his eyes were open. He rolled himself on his back at some point, the blood around him almost feeling plush on his dingy skin. Teal eyes kept moving back and forth behind sealed eyelids, his brows knit together – oh fuck. That hurt. This much he could remember. The pain that shoot through every nerve in his body. He begun to panic and to his horror, the sound of the beeping sped up. Jason wanted to cry out, his voice unable to come to the surface, and his throat felt like it was peeling from the inside out. Predictably, the more he panicked the more that his breathing struggled, the pain in his chest near overbearing that he wasn’t sure that it was even worth the trouble. His treacherous mind must be playing horrible tricks on him, preying on his desperate state in mimicking the sound of Bruce’s voice in his ear calling out his name softly.

A heavy weight was suddenly on his cheek, Jason flinching away from the source. His throat constricted around what felt like barbed wire, mustering only a pitiful wail in between stuttering breaths.

“Jason, you have to calm down son.”

What a deplorable mind of his, telling him to calm down in his cherished person’s voice. Didn’t it know that he wanted to calm down? That he would have settled himself long ago if he could?

“Settle son, settle.”

That voice was so much closer now, right above his face. Now more than ever he wished to open his eyes, to see the father he yearned for, if not to clear away the cruel fantasy. Like with everything else he’s tried thus far, he failed.

Another three days would pass before he would wake again. This time the muted shade of turquoise would shoot open in what could be described as a deranged frenzy. He still couldn’t sit himself up, couldn’t move more than a twitch of his fingers, but this time when he gasped deeply, he could release it again.

“B-Bruce!” His voice hoarsely croaked, unable to form anything other than the name. He would gasp one more time, followed by a fit of coughing before the name stuttered out again. “B-Br-uce!”

“Jaylad?” A voice called wearily at first, only to rise in volume a second later. “Jason?! I’m here Jason, _I’m here._ ”

His eyes never moved more frantic as they searched for the source, darting over every spec of the dimly lit room. He just couldn’t help himself with the way the wetness at his cheeks, mewling out brokenly like a wounded animal. There was that god damn beeping again, speeding up and taunting him so. Seconds passed in sluggish movements masked as hours and days on end. Distantly he could hear the sound of something scrapping the floor, of shuffled footsteps towards him. A flash of iron flew before his eyes. Jason prayed for it go away, to be spared another hit, trying desperately to kick his feet to feign off the threat or even thrash his head about. _Anything._

Just as he thought he felt himself seize, his eyes threatening to roll into the back of his head, there was a familiar face looming above him. Cheeks thinned, eyes sunken and dark, with the lower half of his face littered in an unshaven mess. The face of his savior, albeit worst for wear, but right in front of his face. Jason wished to reach out, needing touch to fortify the face with reality. Fucking hell, he just couldn’t move his arms. It didn’t matter, not when the figure already knew exactly what he needed, cupping his face between two wide palms, thumbs brushing over the slippery streaks.

“B-Br-Bru ..”

“Shh,” He cooed, collapsing forward to rest his temple with Jason’s own. “I – I’m here.” The way that the man kept repeating it, stumbling over two simple words, whether to assure Jason or himself, he couldn’t care. Not when Bruce was actually here. Bruce had come for him, Bruce had saved him.

Jason barely heard the swiftly whispered apologies beyond his own sobbing, all the while those thumbs kept swiping at his cheek, soothing over pale flesh in gentle ministrations. He didn’t know when he slipped back under, only that when his eyes fluttered back open he was met with not only the blue of Bruce’s eyes, but Grayson and Alfred as well. Bruce stayed far enough back to be a lingering frame at the peripherals of his vision, while a sobbing Dick Grayson draped himself over his chest. The muffled voice paired with the hiccups of his cries made the first Robin incomprehensible. Even without it, Jason’s mind was so fuzzy he couldn’t string along more than a few words. Words like “Sorry”, “Responsibility”, “Kinder”, and “Love”.

Past the mop of trembling raven hair he struggled to focus on the thin frame of Alfred. The old man was just as pale as Bruce, distinguished hands now skeletal as they were raised to cover the lower portion of his face. He stayed rooted in the corner stark white like a ghost in second and in the next he was pushing a hand through overgrown and greasy bangs with a sigh that sounded mysteriously like _“My dear boy”_.

Jason couldn’t think of a damn thing to say, only to think that he was so incredibly blessed.

When things calmed down enough to silent sniffles and dried tears, Bruce filled in the cracks of his memory. Jason found his mother in Ethiopia. She lured him into a trap under the false pretense of rekindling their long lost connection. At the hand of the Joker, he’d been beaten within an inch of his life with a crowbar. Not wanting to leave anything to chance, the Prince of Crime set a failsafe explosion to blow away he and his mother. Everyone tensed considerably, the air shifting to something volatile after that. Dick kept petting his arm while they waited for Bruce to continue. Turns out he didn’t just have Bruce to thank as his savior. If not for Big Blue locating him by what was supposed to be his last pitiful cries of Bruce’s name and tearing the roof off like paper, he would have been vaporized in the next few seconds. His mother didn’t survive. A darker part of him was thankful for that.

Jason had been admitted into the hospital under pretense of being crushed in a rock-slide whilst volunteering in a nearby village six months ago. The list of injuries kept growing and growing, making his head spin with every addition. His body was currently in a fully body cast, which made sense for his lack of movement. The doctors weren’t optimistic on his chances of survival, or overall brain functions if he did wake. His skull had collapsed in on itself in several places. They hypothesized that if he wasn’t a vegetable, he would have troubles with speech, motor functions, memory, and comprehension (it would make sense, considering he could only understand half of what he was saying). With a bruised spinal cord and countless other broken bones, walking let alone sitting up straight was bleak.

Ever the sun shining brightly around them, Dick chose to speak then in a gentle hum. “Don’t worry Little Wing, you’re the most stubborn person I know. You’re going to get through this.” Jason must be on some of the good shit, because he swore that he saw a twinkle in his eye with his next words. “You’re up for the challenge, aren’t you?”

Challenge didn’t begin to cover it.

Jason’s day started and ended in pain. For someone who just woke from a half year coma, sleep came in increments of forty-five minutes to an hour and a half of time. If he wasn’t waking to screaming his throat raw, it was to the utter agony that breathing just a little too deeply brought. When he was cut out from the body cast (Like a butterfly emerging from it’s cocoon Jay!) Bruce tended to him with a warm sponge bath personally. It was both the most intimate bonding moment they’ve ever shared and the most embarrassing. Jason insisted that the nurses bathe him after that. They compromised on Alfred. After a month sans ‘cocoon’, they all cycled through helping him with his PT for sitting up. Two weeks and they handed him a tennis ball to practice flexing his fingers and grasping objects. Another three weeks and they started working his arms at his sides and as high up as he could stand before the strain gave way to too much pain. Within another five months and Jason could not only sit up with a helping hand (and stay sitting for more than a few minutes), he could raise his arms halfway above his head, and hold objects without dropping them. His hands still shook far too much to consider real motor skills much to his dismay, but like all things he was determined to master it again with time. In between PT and regular scheduled tests, Alfred took it upon himself to read to Jason to help with his comprehension.

By request, he would leave the books behind for Jason to study in the lonesome hours between visits (he couldn’t always have someone with him), a trembling finger tracing a line under the words, mouthing along silently as he taught himself to read again.

At fourteen months into his recovery, Jason was allowed to be taken into the small courtyard by chair (weather permitting). Jason was also allowed visitors beyond immediate family. While Jason’s room never went without bouquets stacking on top of each other, he was bewildered with the amount of heroes in civvies dropped by his cluttered room. Barry Allen, bless his soul snuck in heaps of junk food for Jason to gorge himself on. John Stewart brought him a book of urban poetry once he heard Jason was struggling with an awful stutter.

“To read aloud.” He explained, pulling up a chair and sitting patiently while he listened to Jason stammer his way through stanzas, helping him with rhythm and breathing. Diana despite Bruce’s griping, spoiled him rotten with affection. She would brush his hair, sometimes with his fingers and others with an actual comb as she told him stories of the mighty Amazon and the gods. Some days she simply came to hold his hand while he slept, something about her presence basking him in safety. When Clark Kent arrived, Jason cried like a child all over again, thanking the man profusely for aiding Bruce in saving his life. He didn’t visit nearly as often, but when he did it was with a copy of the paper and article clippings that Lois persisted he keep to date on (there may have been a few in there that were clearly from the entertainment section and play overviews). Selina even came through once or twice. Mind you, she would sneak in when Jason was supposed to be turned in for the night, dawning cat ears and all. “ _Such a sad little kitten._ ” She teased him. Selina was the only one to give him updates on his old neighborhood now that he was unable to patrol it. Selina’s visits were never long (he suspected she just wanted to see that he was still breathing), mostly filled with juicy mask gossip. When winter came, she’d gifted him the warmest, fuzziest blanket he’s ever had, sassing Bruce behind his back as she tucked him in for not thinking of one sooner. While Jason was told to keep who the gift was from a secret, he could tell by the twitch of Bruce’s lips that he knew _exactly_ who brought it.

On of his most favored visitors? One Roy Harper. The first time that Dick expressed to him that Red Arrow of all people wanted to visit him, Jason almost hurt himself with the force of his turn to face his brother. It’s not like he didn’t know Roy. He met the archer through Grayson first. Not on the team mind you, but because he followed Dick along to the manor one evening to retrieve some items. Seeing Grayson visit was surprise enough, but seeing a lean red headed archer with a shameless smile and bright azure eyes – Jason thought he was going to faint. Again, he and the original Boy Wonder clashed more often than not, but when allowed around the male he quickly discovered that his friends were just as unfairly hot as Grayson himself. Jason would never admit to having a crush on Roy, the red head was ruggedly handsome (he was shy, not blind), wit as quick as his draw. Roy must have noticed the way that his cheeks colored whenever Jason was rewarded with a toothy grin when he’d taken it upon himself to start _talking_ to Jason. It wouldn’t be until he was older and they’d actually worked together (that he may or may not have shown off a little for) that Jason was completely entrapped by the archer. Roy was loud and crude, but the male was also a damn genius. With all of the different items that he always seemed to be tinkering on, inventing different parts for his bow and arrows, it was hard not to be the tiniest bit interested. But what really had him? Not that he could make Jason laugh until his belly hurt, or awful fashion sense (it seemed to be a common thing among the Titans), but Roy’s darker nature. Roy wasn’t afraid to hit harder. He wasn’t afraid to voice his opinion on what he thought was unjust. If he was being honest with himself, Jason had the smallest amount of hope that Roy would carry his mark.

It never happened. Jason would always be Dick Grayson’s shy, awkward and red faced kid brother. His heart monitor told on him before he could actually say anything to said brother. He wished that he could punch the male right in his smug grin. Roy’s visits.. they were different to say the least. Roy came to shoot the bull, talk up a storm on the things he was working on to the funny looking dog he saw on the way there. Roy babbled on about how much he liked a certain brand of chip once, and Jason ate up every word with a dopey smile on his face. Roy’s visits weren’t completely without merit however. Oh no. Sometimes he would bring Jason little trinkets that he put together instead of bringing flowers (stating that they were lame and would just make his nose itch anyways). Once he brought a hat for Jason to wear, because for _some reason_ he might need a hat in the hospital. He wasn’t afraid to push his limits. If Jason wanted water (or anything really), Roy would hold it just out of reach, making Jason work for it. If Jason wanted to chew on ice chips (Roy cringed at the sound), he made Jason lift the cup himself. PT with Roy always left him sore and a little giddy. That wasn’t to say Roy wasn’t all rocky exterior with him. During one of their visits while Roy was butchering _Faulkner_ Jason’s lower back muscles spasm in protest, causing Jason to howl out in pain and clutch onto his pillow, knowing that he would need to simply ride out the waves unless he wanted to be drugged to the teeth. Roy all but shot up from his seat to start rubbing calming circles into his back, never once stopping his reading. And when Roy left he always asked the same thing; _Want me to bring you anything Jaybird?_ Roy meant anything. Jason wanted a certain book that no one else had gotten around to helping him with? Roy showed up with a hard-copy. Jason wanted a candy bar? Roy would show up with a case of them.

As with Jason’s recovery progress, their friendship grew. Each visit Jason felt closer and closer to the archer, one tiny crush blooming into something that resembled a best friend. Jason’s never had one of those before. He refused any and all visitors outside of Alfred and occasionally Bruce when Roy had stopped coming around after Oliver’s banishment. Alfred turned out to be just the kick in the ass that he needed, allowing him a few days of moping before demanding he bathe and get back on schedule. The threat of certain carb-heavy dishes no longer being brought his way if he didn’t off his bum may have helped that.

At the twenteth month mark Jason could officially write his name (in awful chicken scratch), read through most books on his own, lift his arms above his head, hold large objects, track movement without becoming dizzy, catch/throw items and lift himself off of the bed. Those weren’t the only developments in his life. For one, not only had he come to appreciate the white streak in his bangs, the curly mess of his hair was now at his shoulders. Despite being able to wiggle each finger individually and his hands no longer shaking, he had no feeling from his wrist up the side of his palm, and his three last fingers (middle, ring and pinkie) on his right. Jason was partially deaf in one ear and he suffered from blaring migraines. A combination of rest, herbal tea, and dark chocolate to nibble helped diminish them. There was one more vast change in Jason’s life.

Duke Thomas.

Not that Bruce would ever admit to it, without Nightwing in Gotham, Barbra attending college, a lack of Robin, and splitting his time three ways (between WE, the hospital, and the streets), Batman needed a little extra help. Jason knew the members of the JL always offered a helping hand, but he also knew how possessive the Bat could be of his city. Jason’s _incident_ still being too close to home Bruce wouldn’t allow another Boy Wonder to roam the streets. Jason almost dropped his ice chips when Dick described not only a new partner, but a meta dawning the bat insignia. Duke – _Signal_ was still in training as well as school, thus making a run in with the latest addition problematic at best. Jason would sooner think that Dick was lying out his teeth and trying to pull the wool over his eyes if not for Wally and Clark’s comments regarding Duke. His first meeting with Duke is anything but glamorous. Jason’s just started PT to stand, Dick was on rotation to help him today and never showed. Being the defiant shit that he is, Jason fibs to his nurse about having help, tricking her into leaving the walker behind for him to attempt to stand on his own. To his credit he _does_ manage to push himself off the bed, hands gripping the railing as he stands.. For about three seconds before he’s falling on his ass.

Jason’s crashing down onto the floor with a swear on his lips but it’s not the one he heard. Suddenly there’s a body pressed up against his side, a hand grasping his bicep while the other arm has a firm hold around his waist as he’s helped back up and onto the bed.

“I’m f-fine!” He hisses as he sits, mentally belittling himself for not only his fall but the stammer as well. John would be ashamed (he wouldn’t) to know that even with all of their work with poetry, Jason’s stutter is still present whenever he’s overwhelmed or exhausted.

“Shouldn’t somebody be helping you with this?”

Jason wants to roll his eyes, to scoff and cross his arms over his chest. Instead he looks a fool with the way his cheeks have colored and he’s glaring at the walker. “My broth-er did-didn’t show.” Can’t stand, can’t talk, Jason may as well throw himself back onto the ground where he would his accept his fate as a spore. A pathetic, skinny spore.

Jason’s never felt more defeated. First days of PT were always stressful, always left him achy and his limbs like goo. It was worth it in the end. Jason’s brain registered that it would be worth the sacrifice of comfort. That didn’t make it any _easier_ to push through. Jason’s never given up after a first try. He’s humiliated and his body is already starting to ache because of how stupidly fragile he is (he knows that he’s going to have a fat bruise tomorrow) now, it’s degrading and Jason just doesn’t want to deal with any of it today. Not to mention, Bruce was supposed to be the one to help him today. Bruce demand to be the one in charge of these PT sessions unless he was absolutely without choice in his absence. Jason had already been passed along to the next person. Dick wasn’t even the next on the list. Dick was the back-up of the back-up. If Bruce was unable, Clark was next in line (the idea behind this being that Clark could literally hear if he was stressing his body too much). If not Clark, then Dick, then Alfred, then there was a list of nurses in order of trust. This person was clearly not Big Blue or any of his family which meant he was stuck with some stranger.

Believe him, Jason was so eternally grateful in the plethora of help that he received out of the kindness of their hearts, his family as well as the extended masks. With Jason growing more independent by the day they’d stopped coming around so frequently. He understands this, really he does. Just because his life is rooted to a hospital bed and four walls shouldn’t mean they couldn’t live their own. What bothered Jason was how much of a burden he felt. With the intricate phone tree of names for each thing because Jason couldn’t even get to the bathroom on his own just yet, he felt like a leech on their lives. Surely, they had other things to do than to help him change his clothes. Clearly they had more important things to tend to if he was with a nurse.

Frustrated, in pain, insecure, a little hungry, and embarrassed Jason wished to be left alone. It was a childish fit to have, to refuse to try again just because he was insecure and a little bit lonely. He missed Roy. He missed Roy so much, he may be a dumbass but he would be here at PT time if Jason asked him to be. Roy would be _early_ (two words that didn’t belong in the same sentence).

“Shit, Bruce is going to kill me.” Even if he understood the clear distress in the nurse’s voice, he didn’t think they would be so unprofessional as to swear so freely and address B by his first name. “You don’t feel like you broke anything again did you?”

Jason loathed that he asked that question – because it was a legitimate concern. He bit his tongue and shook his head.

“ _Oh thank god_.”

Jason was about to put on his most polite sneer and ask the nurse to leave his room when he’d finally caught eyes with warm pools of honey. Jason lost all of his bite when the male smiled at him.

“So are you gonna keep moping or are you gonna try again? No one’s ever said you were a quitter.”

The rug was pulled right from underneath his feet. Correction, Jason felt more like he was just pushed down the stairs of the Gotham courthouse! The raven was sitting there with his mouth agape, opening and closing like a fish out of water. Oh, did his ears burn. Now did he finally assess more than pretty brown eyes. Now he felt himself completely useless if he identified this person as a nurse. Standing here in sneakers, dark washed jeans, a simple shirt peeking out from a red hoodie. This person – this teenager (oh god, he was probably no older than Jason) was no more qualified to be a nurse as Jason was to stand on his own. He would panic at the prospect of a complete stranger (a complete teenage stranger) walked into his room to see him fall on his ass. Jason did pay attention.. somewhat. He could hear the playful taunt in his voice, and that last line was sure shot at riling up. No floosey nurse or random teen would know of his mean competitive streak just from looking at him, let alone call Bruce by name. That left only one option.

“Duke?” Thank god he didn’t stutter.

“Ah shit, no wonder you’re looking at me like a crazy person.” Suddenly there was a hand extended his way, and those honey pools lit right back up again. “Duke Thomas. Dick didn’t tell you I was coming?”A very nice, firm handshake. Jason didn’t trust himself to embarrass himself again, choosing to shake his head. “Of course he didn’t. I know he’s your brother and all Jason, but he’s kind of an airhead.”

Just like that; Jason liked Duke.

Thankfully, Duke didn’t try to fill up the space he needed for concentration with mindless chatter. Instead he kept silent as mouse save for a steadying word or a soft ‘you have it?’, eyes trained sharp on Jason for any indication that he was pushing himself too hard (he was a smart one, picking up on that within the first few minutes). It was during the little rest periods that Duke would see it fit to speak, little things like how his training was going, and the ever so polite apology for his current state. Duke apologized for _Jason’s_ ailments.

To say that Bruce was pleased when he walked through the door hours later to see Duke sitting near Jason’s bed while he recite poetry would be a lie of omission. Bruce wasn’t upset with Duke per se for stepping up in helping out Jason for the day, both PT and speech, he was upset that there was supposed to be a very different son sitting in that chair. Jason didn’t let Bruce lecture either of them. Duke gawked at his shameless manipulation as he smiled at Bruce and told him that he had a really good day with Duke. After that Dick was bumped down further in the list, Duke showing when the other’s couldn’t, and the occasional social call. Sometimes they didn’t even talk; Duke would come and work on his homework while Jason rested. When asked about it later, Duke said he didn’t feel right staying at the manor. Jason liked him even more.

Twenty six months, Jason was cleared to start attempting to walk.

From Jason’s understanding, B went through hell just to get the next few days off to help him with his first PT sessions. He even stayed in the room the first night. Four weeks into walking (flattering calling it that, it was more like dragging his feet like an eighty year old man) and Duke had steadily become his favored walking partner. Bruce was too much of a helicopter parent. He loved B, he really did, but PT with him could be a nightmare. Dick as beautiful as a soul he was, talked far too much for his comfort and always wanted to be touching some part of him. Always. Like if he wasn’t Jason was going to float away. Plus Wally had passed along a gift of socks with the little rubber patterns on the bottom, like the kind you put on toddler’s you don’t want to slip. Alfred had much better things to do than to walk him like a dog, and the other masks were near obsolete at this point. Duke was polite not to be confused with a pushover. Duke had this ‘ _you’re not gonna get me in trouble_ ’ type attitude that would spur on Jason’s mischievous ideas. Jason teased Duke that he was too much of a _goody-goody_. Duke shrugged and said to him in the calmest voice “ _At least I can walk_ ” like it didn’t just sink Jason’s entire battle-board. Duke was funny, warm hearted and still capable of roasting Jason into an early grave. They didn’t have a terrible amount in common save from being swooped up off the streets from a certain Bat (they hardly liked the same things at all), but Duke was dependable and he treated Jason like a person.

For the second time in his life, Jason was tacky enough to fancy himself a best friend.

“Okay Jay, let me ask you something deep.”

In their attempt of slicing through boredom – baby stepping while one hand held onto his IV while the other arm was linked with Duke’s back and down the hallway was entertaining for so long – they’d begun a game of twenty-one questions. So far they’d asked easy things. Meaningless stuff like favorite colors, favorite building, and even article of clothing ( _really Duke, of all things to ask? Jackets_ ). So to hear that they were going to start dipping their toes into deeper water Jason paid attention with renewed vigor for the game.

“Lay it on me D.”

“Have you found your half yet?” Jason stumbled forward and almost lost hold of his IV stand with how unprepared he was for that question. Polite as always, Duke made sure he was okay before he chuckled. “Are you going to answer or not?”

Truthfully, Jason hadn’t really put much thought of finding his match since before his search for his mother. It came up once or twice, with thinking that he was going to die and all, and a little spark when Roy came around. Besides that? Jason’s willed himself to forget about it. Being reminded of it now was like swallowing all of his medicines without a drink. Jason shook his head. “S’not really my thing,” Oh, how it used to be. “What about you? Get your marks yet?”

“What do you mean it’s not your thing? It’s _everyone’s_ thing Jay.”

“I dunno,” Couldn’t exactly shrug with either arm holding tight onto something. “Guess I-I just do’wanna be an-anyone’s burden.” Jason didn’t need to look at Duke to know what he was thinking. _Liar_. If Jason meant any of that, he wouldn’t have had such a hard time saying it. Not that it mattered when Duke halted their movement and gave a light tug to the arm he was holding.

“You don’t really think that you’re a burden on anyone, do you Jay?” Jason kept his eyes straight ahead, making a noncommittal sound in lieu of answering. “Damnit Jay this is serious. Don’t you – Hey, _look at me._ “ But Jason didn’t want to look at Duke. He didn’t want to be having this conversation at all. As a matter of fact, he didn’t have to. It took some might to get his arm back from Duke, the hand on the IV stand white knuckling with how tightly he was holding it while his other hand steadied himself along the wall. “So now you’re just going to be stupid because you don’t want to talk to me? Are you serious right now?” Jason was keen on ignoring him, focusing on every little step.

Acting on impulse and disaster always went hand in hand with Jason. His overly ambitious show of defiance landed him with a not so graceful tumble down to the floor, IV stand and all. Duke was at his side in seconds, a few stray personal quickly jogging over to offer their hand. Jason was already feeling so vulnerable mustering up as much venom as he could to smack away hands and get on shaky hands and knees in attempt to push himself back up. He felt stupid in knowing that he was stuck, that he couldn’t get back to his feet no matter how many times he tried, he was going to be falling right back to the floor (at least he was allowed to wear sweatpants). Each time he grew more upset, hot tears of frustration falling to the dirty floor as he bat away any helping hand.

“What the hell is going on here?!” Jason knew that voice anywhere. He was just getting back up onto shaky arms when he heard the thundering sound of Bruce’s feet. Jason may be able to tell off the nurses or even Duke but there was no stopping Bruce from scooping him up off the floor and into his arms like he weighed nothing. Already so ashamed of himself, Jason pressed his face into Bruce’s shoulder with a groan. The walk (more stomping) back to Jason’s room was eerie quiet. He didn’t fight the man when he was deposited back on the bed and he was looked over for any obvious sign of injury. He did however wince when Bruce had spun around to face Duke, voice gravely low as he hissed at the teen. “I said you could visit him on the condition that you help him!”

“I was Bruce -” Whatever Duke was going to say, Bruce was having none of it. “You realize I don’t see it that way when Jason is c _rying on the hospital floor_.”

“Bruce!” Jason tried to save himself some dignity here. Saying that he fell would be enough, he didn’t need to talk about Jason like he was helpless and couldn’t understand what they were saying.

Jason was one again disregarded as Bruce continued to barrel through. “The _only_ condition I have for visiting Jason is that you _take care of him.”_

“I do take care of Jay!” Duke sounded so.. so insulted. “Not that it matters, but he was the one who ripped away from me. Just listen to me for a second -”

“I trusted you to-”

Jason didn’t like this, Bruce was vicious with his words when he was upset.

“You can trust me Bruce!”

“ _Nothing can happen to Jason!”_ The growl of his voice reverberated off the walls, silencing them from any further argument. Jason was afraid to move. If that look on Duke’s face said anything, so was he. It took a minute for Bruce to deflate, to pinch the bridge of his nose as he stepped back to distance himself from his anger.

Jason wanted to shout at Duke to take the opportunity to leave, to leave well enough alone. If any of the birds (and bat) new what Bruce’s posture meant right now, it was Jason. Duke caught his gaze, but instead of stepping down, the line of his jaw hardened. “Jason thinks he’s a burden.” They both left the room shortly after that. Jason couldn’t hear what they were saying, but if the escalation of muffled voices was anything to go off of, it wasn’t anything good. Duke didn’t come back into his room and Bruce left only after he checked on Jason again.

Duke didn’t come by the hospital for a few weeks after that. Bruce had probably done it to punish him, in reality it felt like Jason was being punished. Jason was so riddled with guilt, by the time that Duke was allowed to come back down, Jason kept his mouth shut. Another six weeks and Jason would be allowed to return to the manor with a strict PT schedule and check-ups planned for the whole next year. Jason couldn’t climb up the stairs himself, so Bruce had an electronic chair installed along the wall banister. It was gaudy and ugly. Jason hated that Bruce would have to ruin his family’s home just because he couldn’t do things for himself. Jason fought him tooth and nail on it at first. Bruce stood back with his arms folded and asked him to get up the stairs himself if he didn’t need it. Bruce didn’t allow Alfred or Duke to help, told them off to the other side of the manor as he waited expectantly for Jason to prove him wrong.

Jason was biting back a pained sob as he was literally climbing the stairs on his hands and knees, barely at the fifth step and feeling like he was on the bring of passing out. That’s when Dick walked in, shouting his apology for being late, immediately stopping his tangent and dropping whatever it was he was carrying to sprint to Jason’s side with a cry of ‘ _Little Wing_ ’. Dick swore at Bruce for just standing there as he cradled Jason’s shaking form (he was trying to push Dick away, trying to insist that he could do it himself when Dick pulled him in further). “ _Jason has to do it himself_.” Bruce said, tone flat as he extracted a thrashing Dick from his curled form on the stairs. Really, Duke said he wasn’t a burden all these weeks ago? Bruce and Dick were about to knock each other’s teeth out all because he couldn’t stop crying against the carpet of the step. It was too much to handle, too much to hear Dick snarling at Bruce with Alfred and Duke trying to calm him only to end up on the back end of his scolds for ‘ _Turning their backs on Jason and watching him suffer’_. All of this turmoil, because Jason got in the way.

“I-I gi-ive up-p!” He finally cried out, not even trying to hold himself upright with the way he was slumping into the stairs. He would have slid right down them if not for Duke and Dick rushing forward to stable him. After how nasty he was to them? He didn’t deserve their kindness. Jason outwardly sobbed as Bruce took him from his brothers, settling him on the chair and buckling him because ‘ _You will learn Jason_ ’. Bruce made no move to comfort him after getting him buckled, simply collapsed his walker and handed it to him to hold. Bruce didn’t even accompany him up the stairs when the button was pressed and he started to ascend. Jason blubbered the whole way up, not stopping as he fought with the seat belt and getting his walker back in order. His sobs and hiccups bouncing off the hollow walls as he forced his legs to take him to the end of the hall where his room sat.

In the early hours of the morning, presumably after patrol, Grayson crawled into bed alongside him when he found Jason still sniffling into his pillow. He didn’t say anything for once as he carded his hands through Jason’s overgrown hair. Duke had joined them, sitting himself at the foot of the bed with a cup of Chai tea ready and waiting for Jason whenever he settled down enough to drink it. Jason didn’t deserve such compassionate brothers.

-

No matter how hard he worked, how much he pushed himself, Jason would never be able to return to vigilantism. He’d thankfully outgrown the need for a walker/cane on an everyday basis. The cold decidedly, was not his friend. Something as minuscule as pressure changes would cause his neck, back and hip to swell and throb. The migraines never stopped, they could very much still reduce him into a trembling mess. Jason had no feeling in his toes which offset his balance. While Jason could jog and do light weight lifting now, if he wasn’t careful he could send his whole body into seize by over exerting himself. Jason would need to be constantly adjusted at the chiropractor with how out of line his spine and hip had become from another. Jason would be a liability in the field and put everyone else at risk. It wasn’t the life he expected for himself, the few short years of being Robin not nearly enough, but he would make peace with it for his sanity’s sake.

Jason may not be able to participate in the family business as a bird or bat anymore, but he could take part in WE. He’d never taken interest in it before, not so much as bothering to even consider that he would have a hand in his adoptive father’s cooperation. And now, at twenty years of age, the relief programs, youth centers, homeless shelters, and various charities have never been more successful. No charity gala he planned ever went without exceeding it’s goal. Every event sold out, and every classroom and home filled with a constant flow of hope. Jason formed programs based on what he wished he had help with when he was younger, the Wayne name brought more than enough funding, and his family’s extra circular activities kept it from falling corrupt. Alongside his family (and every masked heart he’d touched along the way) were expected to volunteer their time at any of the different centers that he erected. Ironic to think that what the different programs needed to strive was the eye of a former street rat and an iron will.

At twenty year’s old, Jason could say that his life was fulfilling as it was whole. No longer was he Jason Peter Todd the street rat, the rebellious Robin, the broken bird. He was Jason Peter Todd-Wayne, the head of the Wayne Enterprises Relief Foundation, and he was going to be late for his birthday dinner at this rate.

Jason ignored the blinking flash of his mobile alerting him to every new message he received, buzzing along the side of his desk with their income. Jason’s last meeting for the day had ended over thirty minutes ago, but a possible generous donor for his next charity auction had contacted his office with a request in audience. This company already expressed great interest in partnering for an event but their schedules never seemed to line up correctly for a formal meeting – if not today they wouldn’t have time before the auction itself. The company had agreed ahead of time to donate even without the meeting, but a little voice whispered in his ear to accept. His family was rightfully outraged that he chose business over his special turkey dinner (Tofu, for one Damian, Bruce being the only one to understand his decision. ‘ _An hour and a half to two hours max._ ’ He was told. He figured it more than enough time to have their meeting and head home.

Jason was killing time by fussing over his new hair cut. Birthdays meant change right? Like with this meeting now, he something told him to go in for a fresh start. He traded in his hair curling at his ears for a sleek hard-line and faded undercut. He toyed with the pushing back the longer bangs that threatened to slip over his eyes, smiling fondly even at the unruly wave of the white streak. It didn’t matter what he used or how much product he put in his hair, that one little streak would always fall back over his brow. He’d just started to loosen his tie when there was a faint knock at his door.

“The client is waiting for you in conference room two.” His assistant chirped. Jason gave her a gracious nod, excusing her for the day as he shouldered his suit jacket, placing his phone into the inner pocket and fastening the middle button.

Jason was nothing short of an anxious ball of energy as he rode up the elevator those three floors, fiddling with the plunger of his pen to the calming music. As he stood outside the heavy wooden door, he told himself there was no reason to be nervous. That the fluttering in his belly was from the prospect of getting home to his family. He told himself to smile, to offer his hand and be as welcoming as possible.

What he didn’t expect was an almost lithe figure, one arm extended above their head as they leaned into the floor to ceiling glass, the lights of the city illuminating them in a glowing silhouette. Whoever this person was, they seemed to be having a moment. Respecting their little bit of peace carved out in the window, Jason slid his hands in his pockets, idly strolling over in light footed steps as not to startle them. Jason stood with a foot between them shoulder to shoulder. Well, more like shoulder to head, they were considerably smaller than his own six foot three. From here he could see the way the elegant cut of their suit complimented the contours of their body, jaw length onyx hair obscuring any visual of their face.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Jason rasped gently, only turning to face the figure when he noticed their flinch from the corner of his eye. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

They turned and Jason’s teal met with the most electrifying diamond blue, framed by thick black lashes. The confusion was blinked away from them in the next second, brushing back a lock of hair from view before he was reaching out and offering his hand.

“Hi, Timothy Drake of Drake Enterprises.” His voice was low and spun like fine silk.

It would take an embarrassing amount of time for his brain to catch up with his surroundings.

“Jason Todd-Wayne, it’s a pleasure.”

And when their hands met, Jason’s skin spider webbed with a dainty fleet of constellations, from the tips of his fingers up his sleeve.

Jason had almost died at the hands of the joker at fifteen, and now at twenty-one, he’d met his soulmate. _Finally._

_FIN._

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who took these prompts and ran with it. No matter, I wanted to dive into each prompt/trope a little, and as it turns out day 2 & 3 fit perfectly together. If you see someone actually writing this stuff beside me, drop a link. And because I started this late at night (again, I'm the worst lol) and posted this before the sun comes up, it still counts as posting for 2 & 3.
> 
> I probably dug a little more deeply into Friendship/Jason Never Died while Soulmates/Bloody was like a nice little side dish. 
> 
> Once again I made this very Jason-centeric, and tried to focus more on his thoughts/emotions in each stage of his life, and how each stage would later factor his personality. 
> 
> Am I so awful for waiting for the reveal at the very end of the story? If anyone would like to see the actual relationship in this universe, let me know and I can give something more than a few measly paragraphs. 
> 
> Last but not least, Duke is a batboy. You will not change my mind.
> 
> **It seems there's already a slight demand for this to continue. Head on over to my tumblr [CaptainDeadShips](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/captaindeadships) to tell me what you'd like to see from this series.


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